


Flu Shot

by pierrot



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierrot/pseuds/pierrot
Summary: Ohno catches a cold. Then he receives an unexpected visitor. A few days later, a mysterious gift arrives at his apartment.They aren't the only surprises in store for him.





	Flu Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Ohno!
> 
> I can't claim this was written for Ohno's birthday, but I remembered it today and it was almost finished, so... here it is! Thank you to Ohno's mum for always giving birth to him. I hope today is full of happiness and sweets :)
> 
> The original inspiration for this fic came from [here](https://twitter.com/poetastrologers/status/839861865408778240) because when I think of Juntoshi, I usually like to think of Jun being a creepy, affectionate weirdo ♡

One thing they all accepted long ago is they can’t afford to take time off work when they’re sick. The idol lifestyle is not that forgiving, and Arashi isn’t really Arashi without the five of them present. That’s why they have medicine, flu shots, an unending supply of vitamins, and, above all else, a perfect, professional mentality that can survive through a bit of a sniffle or a pounding headache.  
  
It’s perhaps not surprising then that when a scheduled break finally rolls around, any suppressed illness tends to hit with full force. Lowered defences are the pitfall of a day of rest.  
  
Ohno’s never thought about this idea too deeply, but one thing is clear: he’s definitely sick. His plans of enjoying a day of fishing fly out the window when he wakes to a stuffy nose and watering eyes, his throat burning and thick with a slimy feeling that he can’t seem to swallow. His hair is matted to his forehead, warm with sweat, and he’s completely parched, but moving from his bed is a hurdle too big to overcome.  
  
He goes back to sleep.  
  
At some point, he has to drag himself out of bed and to his kitchen, unable to ignore his thirst any longer. His nose is only still blocked on one side; his right nostril drips with watery snot, and he stuffs a tissue inside before moving to his couch, a glass of water in hand.  
  
Sometimes Ohno regrets moving out of his parents’ home. Sure, there are perks to living alone, but now there’s no one to take care of him. There’s no one to buy him medicine or make him a delicious meal—not that he has any appetite right now, but surely that won’t last and then what will he do? His fridge is empty, and ordering food in is such a pain.  
  
He grabs his phone off the coffee table and replies to a message from his manager before sending a whiny text to Nino. He doesn’t actually expect Nino will do anything to help him—unsolicited dick pics are not a cure-all, no matter what Nino says—but complaining makes him feel a bit better.  
  
He thinks he’ll feel even better if he lies down again, so he does. The couch isn’t quite as comfortable as his bed, but it’s convenient, and he’s not in any real state to care.  
  
The sound of his phone vibrating is a minor annoyance he’s able to ignore.  
  
  
—  
  
  
The first thought Ohno has when he hears a kettle boiling is that one of his parents must be home.  
  
Then he remembers he’s in his own apartment, and neither his parents nor anyone else should be there.  
  
He opens his eyes and jerks upright.  
  
“You’re awake.”  
  
Ohno recognises that voice. It’s unmistakeable, though he still can’t quite be sure his mind isn’t playing tricks on him until he turns his head and sees Jun standing in his kitchen.  
  
“Would you like some tea?” Jun says, as though it’s a perfectly normal question to ask and there’s nothing strange about him being there, inside of Ohno’s apartment, when Ohno’s sure he didn’t invite him over.  
  
He hadn’t even realised that Jun knows where he lives.  
  
Jun’s still looking at him, waiting for an answer, but Ohno says nothing. He stares at Jun, blinking slowly.  
  
Jun sets down the mug he’s holding on the counter and exits the kitchen, crossing the living room until he reaches the couch where Ohno is.  
  
“I got you some medicine,” he says, bending down to pick up a packet on the coffee table that hadn’t been there before.  
  
Ohno feels his fingers close around the packet when Jun passes it to him, but he’s barely conscious of his movements. “Why are you here?” he asks Jun.  
  
“Because you’re sick,” says Jun. “And someone needed to check up on you. Leader can’t be sick.”  
  
It’s not a very good answer. Jun hasn’t explained how he found out about Ohno’s cold, or how he managed to get inside Ohno’s apartment. For some reason, Ohno doesn’t feel the need to question him further. It makes a strange sort of sense in his mind that Jun is there. He’s Matsujun, after all; he’s capable of these kinds of things.  
  
“You should take some,” Jun says with a nod at the packet in Ohno’s hand. “And drink lots of water. I left some food in the fridge if you get hungry—you just need to heat it up on the stove.”  
  
Ohno nods, a slow and vague bob of his head. All he’s done today is sleep, but he still feels sleepy, as though he could drift off at any second.  
  
“Are you staying?” he asks.  
  
“I can’t. Sorry.”  
  
There are fingers in Ohno’s hair and he leans into the touch, eyes closing.  
  
“You shouldn’t sleep here,” Jun says. “You’ll get a sore neck.”  
  
Ohno murmurs something indistinct before a light tug of Jun’s fingers in his hair makes him find his words. “I’ll move if you help me,” he says.  
  
“Medicine first.”  
  
The fingers touching him disappear, and then so does the packet in his hand. He hears cardboard ripping and foil crinkling and he doesn’t open his eyes.  
  
“Open,” says Jun.  
  
Ohno drops his jaw and sticks out his tongue.  
  
Jun snorts. “You look like a puppy. A very sad and pathetic puppy.”  
  
Ohno cracks his eyes open a fraction. Looking at Jun through his lashes, he says, “Does that mean I get a treat?”  
  
“And what sort of treat would you like?” Jun asks with a smile.  
  
Nothing comes to mind. He stares silently at Jun until Jun bats the side of his head lightly with his hand.  
  
“Take your medicine,” Jun says, pressing two tablets into his palm.  
  
He’s a little disappointed Jun didn’t go through with placing the tablets directly into his mouth. It’s his fault, he supposes, for asking a question without thinking; he should have been more patient.  
  
Oh well. Lesson learned.  
  
“Do you really need me to help you move to bed or can you get there by yourself?” Jun asks once Ohno’s finished swallowing the tablets and a few mouthfuls of water.  
  
Ohno’s only response is to lift his arms up for Jun to take.  
  
He probably doesn’t need Jun’s help—he’s not feeling that weak—but he likes being tugged along by Jun’s firm hands. He thinks he’d like it even more if Jun would remain attached to him as he flops onto his bed; if he would curl up beside him and wrap an arm around his waist, stroke his hair, breathe into his neck, until Ohno falls asleep.  
  
Jun’s not the cuddling type. Ohno knows that. He can’t be upset at having his unreasonable expectations dashed, though he thinks his current condition allows him to pout a bit.  
  
“Get some rest,” Jun says with a final, gentle pat to Ohno’s head.  
  
Ohno forgets about his desire to have Jun stay as sleep beckons, curling through his aching body and pressing down heavily on his eyelids, making him forget about anything beyond the comforting softness of his pillow.  
  
  
—  
  
  
When he wakes up, his headache is gone, and so is Jun.  
  
For a little while, he wonders if he merely dreamed Jun’s presence, but his apartment is cleaner than he remembers it being the day before, and there are unfamiliar containers of food in the fridge.  
  
He removes one of the containers and dumps its contents into a pot without much consideration. Anything Jun has given him is sure to be delicious. There’s an assortment of supplies on Ohno’s kitchen counter that Jun must have left: more medicine, tea, herbal drinks, cough drops, even some honey daikon, and it’s all a bit much, but Ohno knows Jun means well, so he puts a kettle of water on to boil.  
  
Before he sits down to eat, Ohno takes a picture of his mug of tea and his bowl filled to the brim with piping hot stew and he sends the photo to Jun.  
  
  
—  
  
There are a lot of things Ohno had been planning to do when he arrived home from work. None of them involved sitting on his lounge room floor feeling equal parts confused and uneasy as he stares at a single sneaker currently resting in his hands.  
  
The shoe arrived earlier that day—with a partner, inside a box, delivered as a package addressed to him. He must have been out when the delivery was made, but he received it from his concierge when he got home from work. That in itself is not an unusual occurrence, but he hadn’t been expecting any deliveries, so the presence of the package came as a surprise.  
  
What’s even more confusing is that he recognises the design of the sneaker. He’s turned it over in his hands three times to make sure, but there’s no mistaking the marks on the sides or the label name on the inner sole. He looked at a picture of this exact pair of sneakers a few days ago when he was browsing an online store. In fact, he almost bought them.  
  
He’s certain he didn’t.  
  
He left the tab open on his computer before going to sleep, and the next morning he woke up feeling too sick to give the sneakers another thought. By the time he remembered them, his computer was off, the tab was gone, and the sneakers remained unpurchased.  
  
He’s certain.  
  
Ohno drops the sneaker back into its box and pushes the box away. Jokes about his old age are only amusing when they’re highly exaggerated for the sake of broadcasted entertainment, and mysteries aren’t so fun in real life.  
  
Until he receives a proper explanation for this particular mystery, he’s going to act as though the sneakers don’t exist.  
  
(When Ohno later tells the story of the mysterious sneakers to friends, they inevitably ask him why he didn’t check his bank statement or online purchase history. Ohno did think of that, eventually, but he didn’t know whether he wanted confirmation that he had purchased the shoes himself or that he hadn’t—both options seemed unsettling in their own way—so he chose ignorance. No one really agrees with his decision, not even Aiba.)  
  
  
—  
  
  
Jun keeps staring at Ohno strangely whenever they meet.  
  
Nino tells him it’s nothing unusual, Jun always stares at him and he just doesn’t notice, but Ohno’s not stupid. He knows about Jun’s habit of staring, which is why he knows there’s something different about it now. It annoys him that he doesn’t know _why_ it’s different, to the point where almost he gives up playing dumb and asks Jun about it directly, but then he catches Jun looking at his feet one morning and suddenly, he understands.  
  
_Oh_.  
  
The next morning, Jun looks at Ohno’s feet again, but this time he smiles instead of frowning.  
  
“Nice shoes,” he says with an approving nod.  
  
Ohno sticks one foot out in front of the other. “Think so?” he says as he rotates his ankle, showing off the new sneakers to maximum effect.  
  
They are nice shoes, he thinks. They look better on his feet than shoved away in a box at the bottom of his closet.  
  
Jun asks, “Are they comfortable?” and Ohno nods. He looks up at Jun, waiting for his next move, but Jun says nothing.  
  
Ohno doesn’t say anything at first either. He moves slowly across the room, quietly amused at the way Jun watches him without looking at him directly, and he stops right before where Jun is seated.  
  
After a lengthy pause, Jun looks up.  
  
“Thank you,” Ohno says.  
  
Jun’s mouth twitches into a small, pleased smile, and sure, Ohno could find it creepy how Jun bought him a pair of sneakers without telling him, but it’s impossible for him to think that way when Jun smiles at him like that. He’s far too cute.  
  
Jun’s always been cute. Not enough people appreciate that side of him, but Ohno does.  
  
He keeps staring at Jun for a little while longer, and even though Jun tries to ignore him, he can’t quite manage to control his expression.  
  
Definitely cute.  
  
  
—  
  
  
Somehow, Ohno isn’t all that surprised when Jun knocks on his door later that night. He steps aside without waiting for an explanation and waves Jun inside.  
  
“Sorry for showing up without calling first,” Jun says, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. He could have called. He didn’t, which can only mean he wanted to surprise Ohno.  
  
Looking at the large bag Jun’s carrying, Ohno assumes he has more surprises in store.  
  
Ohno nods at the bag once Jun’s removed his shoes and asks, “What’s in there?”  
  
“Something for you.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Ohno waits and says nothing. Jun can be a little slow at getting to the heart of a matter. He likes drawing things out and setting a scene. He likes to choose his words carefully when he thinks they’re important.  
  
Only after he’s wandered further inside and placed his bag down on the table does he turn to Ohno and say,  
  
“The shoes weren’t the only thing I saw on your laptop that day.”  
  
Ohno frowns as he tries to figure out what Jun means. His memory of the time when he was sick seems so hazy now. Had there been anything else he’d been looking at to buy? Something Jun decided to bring to him here?  
  
Nothing comes to mind. He gives up thinking and looks to Jun for an explanation.  
  
“You watch some interesting videos,” Jun says.  
  
Ah. The videos. Ohno remembers the videos. Well, he doesn’t remember exactly which ones he left open on that particular day, but he can hazard guess.  
  
He looks at the bag again. “So, in there…”  
  
“I brought some things I thought you might enjoy.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“And some things you might have been curious about, but haven’t been able to try without a helping hand.”  
  
“Sounds like you brought a lot.”  
  
“I did.” Jun takes a step closer to Ohno, completely earnest when he asks, “Do you want to see what’s inside?”  
  
Ohno thinks about.  
  
“Porn is kind of different to real life,” he says, because it’s true, and because he can’t stop picturing every scene he’s ever watched where the pain and humiliation has gone a bit past what he can tolerate even in his fantasies. Plus, there are some things that seem like they’d just be uncomfortable more than anything else.  
  
But then he thinks about the other things, the good things, and how many fantasies he still has left unfulfilled. He thinks about what might be in Jun’s bag, and what he wants to be in Jun’s bag. He thinks about how Jun would fit into his fantasies, how Jun would guide him through every step and make sure he’s safe. Jun won’t hurt him.  
  
And so, when Jun starts to draw back, Ohno stops him. “That wasn’t a no,” he says. “I just wanted to make sure you understood that.”  
  
Jun nods. “I do,” he says, and Ohno can feel some of his nervous energy seep away. He’s glad. They won’t get far if Jun loses his confidence.  
  
“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” Jun promises.  
  
Ohno corrects him: “ _We_ won’t do anything _either_ of us don’t want.”  
  
Jun smiles. He steps closer again and raises one hand to rest on Ohno’s hip. “What if I want to kiss you right now? Is that okay?”  
  
“I’ll allow it,” says Ohno, lifting his chin.  
  
He expects to feel Jun’s lips claiming his as he closes his eyes, but he’s left disappointed. Instead, he feels Jun’s breath on his cheek as Jun leans across to his ear and whispers, “I also brought you the treat I owe you. Don’t let me forget.”  
  
Ohno can’t promise he won’t. With the way his mind goes blank when Jun finally does kiss him, hot and sweet and surprisingly gentle, he doesn’t think he’ll be capable of remembering much at all by the end of the night.  
  
That’s fine by him.  
  
  
  
——  
——  
  
  
  
**Omake**  
  
  
“Do you have a key to my apartment?”  
  
“What? No.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“Why do you ask?”  
  
“Oh, you know… that time I was sick, I don’t remember letting you in.”  
  
“You didn’t. I heard from your manager you were sick and he let me borrow a key so I could check up on you. He has one of your spares, remember?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“... Okay, and I haven’t given it back to him yet. And I probably would have made a copy for myself if I could.”  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah. Anyway, you can make it up to me. Right, Matsujun?”  
  
“Of course. Anything you want.”  
  
“Anything?”  
  
“Not that.”  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
“Okay, maybe that. But first—”  
  
“… _Ah_ …”  
  
“Yeah. Just like that.”


End file.
